


To the Moon and Back

by VRBG



Category: Wentworth (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-28
Updated: 2020-05-28
Packaged: 2021-03-02 21:01:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24423202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VRBG/pseuds/VRBG
Summary: What if Bea suceeded in killing Harry, what if she hadn’t bound Harry’s wrists to the steering wheel when she tried to fake the suicide?
Kudos: 15





	1. Enough

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry i've been absent so long and now i'm back and posting a new story instead of updating the other story i have pending, but i can't help it if the inspiration just isn't there guys. I finished my masters and am going through a bit of a pause at the moment, looking for work during the quarantine is no joke, so let's see if i can update consistently now instead of what i did before. I hope you like this one as much as the other fics i posted :)
> 
> P.S. I'll add the pairings as they show up.

Enough is enough. Bea had reached her limit, there’s only so much a person can take before their sanity breaks. That’s exactly what it felt like those few moments after she put the sedatives in Harry’s food, everything is a haze, like she was having an out-of-body experience.

Well… not everything, it’s the worst memories that stay with you the most isn’t it?

She can still feel him, everything he ever did to her, a couple of years after Debbie was born his mask went up in smoke and she’s been in hell ever since, 14 years of memories filled with little more than degrading comments, beatings, fear and the occasional rape.

She likes to think she stayed for Debbie, her daughter, her light, her reason for living. She deserves everything good in life, a happy family, one that sticks together, it’s something that she went to great lengths to maintain, even if she only managed to keep the illusion of it. But the truth is, she blames herself, for getting pregnant, for trapping herself in a failed marriage, for not being a good enough wife, not being a better mother, for failing her daughter, and so, day after day, she takes the beatings and everything else Harry throws at her as a form of redemption.

Until she just can’t anymore.

As soon as the words flew from her mouth she knew what was coming next, she was aware what her attitude got her with Harry but, sometimes, she just couldn’t help it. She wasn’t always a subservient submissive woman, she became one, out of necessity and survival. There has always been a fire in her, right below her childhood and teenage shyness, but Harry caught her before she could grow into herself and stifled it. Years of marriage have taught her to protect herself by making herself smaller than she seems, but sometimes she can’t repress it.

So, it was no surprise when Bea found herself on her kitchen floor, in a fetal position, trying to protect herself from the worst of Harry’s blows. This was so common to Bea that, while it hurt like hell, she knew that she could take it, so she just waited until he tired himself out. But, when he pulled her onto her feet, and threw her face first onto the table to pull her pants off, she couldn’t hold onto her detachment anymore. This was always the worst thing he could ever do to her, the beatings were regular enough that Bea had learned dissociate from it, but the raping he pulled once in a blue moon because he knew how it wrecked her. The raping is as much physical as it is psychological, and it makes her hate herself a little more every time she couldn’t fight him off.

And she had tried, oh she had, so many times, but it was like the more she fought the more pleasure he drew out of it, and no matter how much she pushed and pulled he just kept groaning against her until he was done.

Usually, when all is said and done, this leaves her empty and disgusted with herself, and desperate for a shower hot enough to burn his touch away. And she doesn’t know why this time is different but, when Harry unceremoniously pulls out and leaves her there, everything just stops.

_‘This is what’s become of your life. Broken husband, broken family… broken psyche…What would Debbie think if she saw you now?’_

That’s probably it. The thing that just snaps her sanity, because imagining Debbie following in her steps… just breaks her. There is a fire hot anger in the pit of her stomach that drives her next actions, and all she can think is: _‘Never again. Enough.’_

She fixes her clothes and follows Harry’s path into the living room, she must have been awhile because the meds seem to have kicked in, as he’s passed out in front of the TV. Now, she’s not the strongest woman but, in that moment, she must have gained superhuman strength because she pulls Harry all the way to the garage and into the car. She turns the car on, opens a backdoor window enough to put a tube through, connects it to the exhaust pipe and locks the car. She also locks the garage doors before going back inside and proceeds to clean the house, like it’s any other day.

It’s almost scary how calm Bea feels, she has had so much practice dissociating herself from events that she has successfully created and executed a plan to kill her husband in an instant, without once panicking. Hopefully without implicating herself.

Thankfully, Debbie has a study session on this very day, so she should be home just before dinner in 1-2 hours, just when she should be finished cleaning and making dinner. And then, they’ll both have to face the consequences of Bea’s decision, the only thing Bea knows for sure is that a world without Harry is a brighter world for everyone involved.


	2. Not that easy

She really should have known. When has the world ever given Bea Smith a break, really.

While the case against her is mostly conjecture at this point, she really should have known that she wouldn’t completely get away with it. The sedatives in Harry’s blood in that quantity was a risk but, while that doesn’t prove she did anything, it seems her dear neighbors decided that the death of her husband was the perfect time to come forward about rumors of abuse, and suddenly she’s a suspect in a possible murder case and thrown in a van headed to Wentworth Correctional Centre to await her trial.

Her lawyer has assured her that, given the evidence against her, the most they can accuse her of is offence to administer noxious substances but, given the circumstances, the judge may be lenient in which case she should only be facing a 2 years sentence. And, while not the news Bea is expecting, she knows it could be much worse, so she’s going to keep her head down and survive, as per usual.

In the mean time, Debbie will be staying with her grandmother and they’ll just have to make do with phone calls, the fact that Harry can’t hurt either of them anymore is the one good thing that came out of this situation.

It’s with this in mind that she ignores her van neighbor’s attempts at conversation, maintaining monosyllabic answers.

“Hey, is this your first time?” the woman asks coolly, as if this is an everyday occurrence.

Bea nods, trying to dissuade her from further conversation but it doesn’t seem to work.

“What’s your name?” she pushes again.

“Bea Smith.” she tries to sound disinterested enough but, if the woman hasn’t picked up the queue yet, she doubts this will do it.

“Soak it up Bea Smith.”

It seems the woman is messing with her, even better reason to ignore her.

When the van slows down and an officer gets in, Bea gets a bad vibe. Her instincts seem to serve her well as she comes face to face with her very first dirty officer and she hasn’t even stepped foot inside the prison. She makes note of the officer while appearing to ignore the proceedings and anything the duo may say to her.

The second time the van stops, it seems they have arrived. They’re escorted off the van and into the prison, it’s almost surreal, like it’s happening to someone else. She’s lead down several corridors and through just as many electric doors, it feels like it goes on forever but, when she realizes it, she’s seated in front of an officer asking her a battery of questions that she’s barely aware enough to answer. It’s only when he asks for her next of kin that she snaps out of her trance completely, finally aware of where she is.

“Debbie. Debbie, when can I call my daughter?” she asks desperately, suddenly wondering if her own mother came through for her this time.

“Once you get settled in and your papers are taken care of, then you’ll be allowed to call her, ok?” the officer answers gently. She will later learn his name is Mr. Jackson and he’s one of the few good ones.

Bea breathes deeply, trying to calm her sudden desire to make sure her daughter is safe. “Thank you.”

Once the questioning is done and she’s given her clothes and a few basic items, another officer, Miss Bennett, leads her through the yard, where she sees for the first time the women she’ll be spending the next couple of years of her life with, with luck that is.

“When can I talk to my daughter?” Bea asks again as she chances a look at some of the women that surround her.

“All numbers have to be put on a call list. I’ll organize it.” She hears Miss Bennett assure her from far away.

She notices, a lot of the women looking at her with nothing but hostility in their eyes, though, she also sees a few curious looks thrown her way, what throws her off however is seeing a child, no older than 6, in a prison. Before she can process that, she’s lead inside to her new home for the time being.

“Ok, this is where you’ll be staying. This front door is locked at night, but you’re allowed to move around the unit. There’s a panic button if there’s any trouble. This is the kitchen lounge, you have a kettle, coffee, tea, the sugar is rationed but feel free to watch some tv and have a cuppa. There’s your cell, the count is in half an hour, and then lunch. You’ll be allocated work on Monday. And, that’s it. Any questions?”

Bea is thrown so much information at once she’s not even sure how to react, Miss Bennett makes prison seem more of an extended vacation than anything which is suspicious. She can’t forget that she’s an newcomer in a prison with potentially dangerous women and she needs to blend in and keep her head down if she wants to survive, on that note.

“Miss Bennet. Can I please get a uniform?” she sticks out like a sore thumb, she needs to fix that first.

“You can keep your clothes while you’re on remand.” Miss Bennett answers with a perplexed tone in her voice.

“I’d prefer to have a uniform.” Bea assures her.

“Ok. I’ll see what I can do.”

As Miss Bennett makes her way out of the unit, Bea is left alone for the first time since her world was upended and takes a moment to just stand and breathe. When she does finally decide to make her way into her cell, she finds only the most basic items inside. There is a bed to her left, pushed against the wall, a rack each side of her door with a tv on top of and a desk under the rack on the left, on her right side is a sink and a toilet. To be honest, she’s surprised by the tv, but the rest is as she somewhat expected.

She puts her things on top of the desk and starts putting them away, when she hears talking in the unit. Bea turns towards the door to meet the women she’s going to be spending the foreseeable future with.

“Hello love, sorry I wasn’t here when you arrived. They must have forgot to tell me. I’m Liz, your peer worker. And this is Doreen and little Kaiya.” The blonde middle-aged woman introduces herself, she has a distinct motherly feeling to her, even though the clearly younger brunette is the one carrying her, maybe, 6-year-old daughter. “I’m here to show you the ropes and make sure you don’t get into any trouble.”

“Thanks, I’m Bea.”

“I see you’ve already started fixing up the place, it is a bit stark but, you’ll see when you start to put your touch on it, it’ll feel like home away from home.” She knows Liz is trying to be comforting but it’s hard to believe that prison would ever feel like home.

“What did they pinch you for?” The brunette woman, Doreen, she thinks is her name, asks a bit bluntly while simultaneously going through the last of the stuff there wasn’t time to store. Thankfully, it’s mostly clothes while her unmentionables and showering products have already been put away, along with the picture of her daughter.

“I thought that was a question you shouldn’t ask around here.” Bea answers somewhat hesitantly, holding her arms protectively against herself. It’s not something she wants to discuss, but before she alienates her only allies in here, Bea figures she can give them something. “Self-defense, it was self-defense.”

Before they can question her about it too much, a voice comes out of the speakers. “Attention, compound. Count will commence in 10 minutes”.


End file.
